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john-langley-bristol-blogger · 4 months

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They're Escaping the Asylum, and Running Things!

Here I go again, repeating myself, I know. As potentially boring as it may be, something tells me that you, my friend, may well be as exasperated as me by now. So, here we go. Let's share a common vent as we continue to highlight the sheer idiocy of others nowadays.

Where shall we begin? I know, how about The image of a dead lion being swarmed by bees to be dropped from some of Lyle's Golden Syrup packaging. Question one: who actually cares enough about a graphic on a tin can no one even notices anyway? Question two: What relevance, if any does an insignificant graphic have on a buying decision if someone wants a tin of golden syrup? Not me, for sure, and finally, Question three: who is the marketing numpty who considered this a good idea, and did it cause them to lose any sleep due to the graphic which has been in place for somewhere around 150 years without any bother whatsoever? Actually, I have just thought of one further question. Does this person not have a hobby, because clearly he/she/it has far too much time on their hands.

In a similar vein, I was asked by a news channel to participate in a live broadcast about the statue of Bristol's Edward Colston, earlier this week, as later on that day Bristol city council would be having a meeting regarding its future. My point is that the Colston statue has been in place since seventeen hundred and something, with millions of people passing it by since then on their way to and from work, to schools, universities, for business meetings and conferences, and tourists and shoppers alike, all going about whatever they had to do at the time.

To all intents and purposes, no one gave so much as a flying fig about it because it was just there, and pretty much invisible to all except a self-entitled minority over the past few years who suddenly felt oh, so offended by its presence - poor dears, pulled it down, and then returned home to, I presume, watch children's television following their petulant outburst without even the satisfaction of receiving so much as a Blue Peter badge for their efforts. Awww. Still, as long as it served to feed their oversized egos they were happy, bless them. Meanwhile, of course, the majority of Bristol 'adult's did the adult thing and averted their gaze to the Colston statue, as similarly, the same can be said for those who bought golden syrup over the years.

What next then? Aha, yes, here's another among the loonies who, newly born, deserved to have been baptised in a font of sulphuric acid to save the rest of us from their later life moronisitis (yes, I just made that word up). The prize pillock here is whichever employee of the National Multiple Sclerosis Society (MS) decided to sack pensioner Fran Itkoff from her volunteer position with the charity because she "asked what pronouns meant". Fran Itkoff had served the non-profit for multiple sclerosis patients for 60 years, with her late husband running the Long Beach Lakewood chapter before his death.

She was left stunned when her bosses forced her to step down on January 19 following an exchange with a colleague who asked her to use her pronouns in email signatures. Well now, isn't this "colleague" just full of her own self-importance, or what? I'm surprised her ego doesn't get in the way of her entering whatever building doorway gives her access to her work. Aren't you? Pronouns, my arse, get over yourself woman before you fall off your high horse and injure yourself. These people aren't even worth the satire. Hence, as soon as people begin thrusting their inane pronouns at me in any communication I go incommunicado with immediate effect until they've got over themselves, or, penguins takeover Parliament. Whichever is sooner. I'm not fussed.

Shall we all now deep-breathe for a couple of minutes before I move on? Very well.

Ready for the next assault on your common sense, are you? Good. So, how about this one? Charity umbrella group Wildlife and Countryside Link claim that the British countryside is a "racist colonial" white space. You see, lunatics like this would be enough to drive the sane of our population on the phone to the Samaritans helpline 24/7, wouldn't they? I feel a headache coming on just from writing about it! Which, of course, leads me towards some smartarse saying, "Well, the majority of 'adults would avert their gaze," I suppose. Yeah, yeah, there's always one! Except, like most, I hope, normal, common-sense people with even a modicum of intelligence would recognise blatant, and quite unnecessary stupidity when they see it.

Whoever dreamed this idea up is clearly scraping whatever barrels of employment they can find that enables them to keep their, no doubt, high-paid job. Simply finding problems where none exist to justify their status and salary by stating the countryside as "'racist space dominated by white people' as well as, and wait for it. Yes, grip on to something firm now, "The UK’s role in the European colonial project has also driven the current climate and nature crises."

"European colonial project"? What the hell is that supposed to be? Do you know the worst part about this? Someone has probably been to university for three, or four years, to learn this tripe. It continues, "People of colour in the UK are significantly less likely to visit natural spaces." Give me a break! I'm surprised whoever didn't go further in stating that whenever a black person is seen in the countryside the locals assume it's an African missionary come to convert them all to Christianity because they are such a rare sight out in the sticks. I can just picture it now, loads of white people hurriedly retreating back to their homes, scared out of their wits at the sight of a black face.

Look, lighthearted humour aside, I don't know about you, but I've seen skin of all colours meandering around the countryside and enjoying it. Some people of ethnic minorities have even discovered we have things called buses, coaches, and even trains here in England. How cool is that! If people search hard enough they'll even find out how to use our buses, coaches, and trains too. Wow, twenty-first Britain, who'd have thought it? However, sometimes I do wonder for myself. So, despite this person's claims, and the transport systems we have in place, I'd say it's more a case of lack of interest combined with laziness that fewer people of colour are seen in the countryside, wouldn't you agree?

Finally, because I simply cannot continue with more of this lunacy without an entire month of Valium to calm my increasingly shredding nerves, I arrive at Pillock Central as the final destination on this particular journey, and Labour MP (seems about right so far - no pun intended) Charlotte Nichols, who was either taking the proverbial, or awaiting psychiatric intervention perhaps, and wanted to change the law to let dead people switch their gender. Hey hun, as much as I hate to state the bleeding obvious. Once you're dead, you're dead. It's a terminal thing, you know? No one is going to rise up out of their grave and complain. Trust me, and move on.

I'm done!

#john langley blog #bristol #john langley bristol writer #john langley author #john langley tumblr #google #bristol live #Golden Syrup #Tate and Lyle lion #edward colston #National Multiple Sclerosis Society #multiple sclerosis #Wildlife and Countryside Link #racism #discrimination #Charlotte Nichols MP #Trans #transgender

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dilemmaontwolegs · 4 months

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Irresistible {7} || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader, Max Verstappen x fem!reader Summary: After everything, you get a happy healthy ending. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, angst, smut, fluff. WC: 4.5k F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven

Your Playlist:

Big Girls Don’t Cry - Fergie

Pretend - Secondhand Serenade

No Right To Love You - Rhys Lewis

You Broke Me First - Tate McRae

Lose You To Love Me - Selena Gomez

The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Wicked Game - Violet Orlandi

Charles’ Playlist:

Your Call - Secondhand Serenade

The Loneliest - Mäneskin

Roses And Butterflies - Making April

Amnesia - 5sos

Miserable At Best - Mayday Parade

Love Is Gone - Slander

The Man Who Can’t Be Moved - The Script

Charles was spiralling with every mile that grew between where he was and where you were. The only updates he had from you were in the form of photos on Instagram and his concentration went into waiting for your next post instead of the preparation for the final free practice of the day. He had sent you enough unanswered messages to know you were ignoring him and it hurt more than he dared let on.

“She’s not home yet,” he said as he caught up to Max in the paddock. It was half a question and half a statement, but he needed some sort of confirmation.

“I know.” Of course Max knew. You kept in touch with him, sending him sporadic messages when you stopped to take in the beautiful countryside on the quiet roads. It should have been a four hour drive but you were content to make it last the day so you didn’t have to think about what you had left behind.

Max looked like he was going to say something else but he closed his lips as an arm curled around Charles’ waist. Whatever information he was going to offer was replaced with a simple, “I’ll see you later.”

Charles turned to Charlotte and his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “I thought you left.”

“Because we had one little fight?”

“I would hardly call it little.”

“Whatever,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Anyway, now that Y/N’s gone things will be so much easier between us. We can get back to how we used to be. We are good for each other, Charles.”

Charles briefly entertained the idea of pushing her away but then he remembered how lonely it was sleeping by himself. It was completely stupid to even think the relationship could go back to how it was but he was selfish, if he couldn’t have you then settling for her was going to be the next best thing.

“How about we talk after practice?” His voice was full of defeat and Charlotte knew she had already won as she kissed his cheek and let him go.

“I’ll wait in your garage.”

He faked a smile and headed after Max.

The air was stale when you stepped into the apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as you dragged yourself down the hall and into your room. Charles’ bedroom door was still half open, the bed unmade and clothes spilling out of his drawers, sending a pang of hurt to your chest before you pulled it shut. You collapsed face first on your bed and just managed to send a message to Max letting him know you arrived safely before you let your emotional exhaustion take you under. You didn't bother to text Charles, he was probably busy anyway.

Dawn came with all the same enthusiasm that you woke with. The skyline was a watery grey and even the birds failed to raise any sort of trill with their woeful calls down on the mariner. Dew clung in the air and on your cheeks as you opened the balcony door and chased away the stale air from being closed up for weeks since the last visit.

Your memory here before the lockdown began didn’t hold a lot of details but you did remember the aroma of coffee drifting up from the cafe below the building. Unfortunately there was only the tang of salt and storm on the air as you inhaled deeply before making the call that was long overdue.

As expected your father answered straight away, the confusion clear in his voice as he realised that his little night owl was up at dawn. “Hey kiddo, is everything okay?”

“Can we have a donut day?”

You could already hear him moving around the house and he must have covered the microphone as he said a muffled goodbye to a sleepy Pascale. “On my way.”

Donut day was created the day you got your first period. As a panicking solo dad he had rushed to the supermarket for supplies, but he left with mostly donuts and other treats. Thankfully Betty was better prepared and soon arrived with everything you needed, along with calm instructions on how to use them. After that, any day that was absolutely terrible was called a donut day. You and your father would sit on the couch and scoff down a box of donuts until the comfort food worked its magic.

You paced the living room until the doorbell rang and practically tore it off the hinges in your haste. You really hadn’t noticed just how lacklustre months of video calls were until you threw your arms around your dad and buried your face in his shirt. Video calls couldn’t capture the smell of his aftershave or the feel of his beard when he kissed your forehead like you were still a little kid.

“I missed you too, pumpkin.” He pulled back to look at your face and his brows pinched together. “Rough night?”

You snorted a laugh but it cracked in your chest and your head fell down. “The last time you asked me that was in Monaco too.”

“I remember. Is this about a boy?”

You nodded and took a seat on the couch while he pensively watched from where he stood. “Will you sit down? You’re making me nervous.”

He huffed and went to the kitchen instead, grabbing a plate and emptying a bag of pastries onto it. “This is the closest to donuts I could find, sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not about the donuts.” You picked at a pain au chocolat while he took a seat and grabbed a pain au raisin. “I…”

You didn’t know where to begin or what to say, you just knew you had to get the truth off your chest so you could try to move on. Maybe by admitting the mistake you made, it might somehow ease the guilt you were carrying.

“A boy, right?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “The same one actually.”

His eyebrows shot up his forehead.“From when we visited?”

“The very same.” You swallowed but the pastry seemed to coat your throat and you nearly choked before you abandoned it. “It was Charles.”

“Oh,” he said with a nod before it seemed to connect and his eyes widened. “Oh…well…shit..”

“I should have said something sooner but I didn’t want to make things awkward for you and Pascale but I…I really fucked up, dad.”

You could practically see his thoughts crossing his face as he remembered how you had called him the first day, asking to stay anywhere else. A heavy sigh fell and he seemed to deflate into the couch cushions. “I thought you were with Max?”

Your eyes narrowed but you didn’t deny it. “How do you know that?”

“Charlotte posted a picture of you and him the other night.”

“That bitch is a-”

“Uh-uh, no,” he tutted. “Correct me if I am wrong but I am going to assume you and Charles have been more than just friends…”

Your silence was damning.

“I don’t think you have the moral high ground to go around calling her a bitch then. I raised you better than that. Does Max know about Charles?”

“Max knows everything,” you admitted quietly, still feeling the sting of the reprimand. “He’s good for me.”

“Okay, so then what’s the problem?”

“I just really thought it was a chance - with Charles. We made plans, a future, I could see it.” Now all you saw was the note on the table and how he chased after Charlotte. “It was stupid and naive and I feel so embarrassed.”

“Love makes everyone stupid at some point.” Your father sighed again before wrapping his arm around you. “So Max huh? You know he’s got a bit of a reputation. Bit of a hot head.”

You wiped away the tears that had been building and scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see in the media. They portray Charles as this wholesome boy next door and Max as an angry man child. Both are wrong.”

You grabbed the pastry and ate it, this time able to stomach the idea of food, before grabbing another. It wasn’t as sweet as a donut but the sugar from the chocolate was starting to hit your blood and perk you up.

“I can’t live here anymore. Not Monaco,” you corrected when you saw his eyes widen. “Just here, with Charles. I need somewhere away from him.”

You didn’t know the exact reason why your mother left but you thought maybe she felt like this, maybe it was healthier to leave than to stay.

“The house isn’t finished but the kitchen and your bathroom are done, so it’s livable. You’ll need some moving boxes. A lot by the looks,” your father said as he stood up and looked around the room to see your belongings strewn across the place. “I’ll be back soon.”

“You’re not going to give me a lecture?” you asked as he made his way to the door.

He scanned your features that reminded him so much of your mother. “You look like you’ve learned your lesson to me. Do you need one?”

You shook your head meekly and he nodded to himself. “I’ll be back with some boxes soon.”

“Hello, handsome,” you greeted Max as soon as the video connected. He had just returned to his hotel after qualifying and securing the 5th starting place on the grid. “I’ve found a new hobby, painting.”

His smile brightened at your mood that had dramatically lifted in the past 24 hours and you showed him around your new bedroom. Paint bottles lined a sheet-covered table and dirty brushes sat in a murky jar of water, but you panned across the wall to show him the artwork you had made.

“What is it?” he asked with a forehead crumpled in confusion. He tilted his head trying to see from a different angle but he still couldn’t process the splatterings - it reminded him of a Rorschach test, one he was doing badly at.

“I didn’t say I was good,” you clarified with a laugh as you also tried to interpret the design that was no longer just on the walls. It was a good thing the carpet hadn’t been laid yet. You had tried to push the hair out of your face and smeared paint across your cheek and it had ended up everywhere by the time you were finished. “It is a mess just like me.”

“You're not a mess, schat,” Max said as he sat at the end of his bed and fell back to watch the tour of the rest of the house. “Are you okay there on your own?”

“It’s certainly quieter than the paddock, that will take a bit of getting used to, but I don’t mind it too much.” You did miss the other friends you had made at Ferrari, but felt it was best to give everyone in red a wide berth for a while. You had seen how poorly Charles qualified and knew he wasn’t at his best partly because of you. You still hadn’t been able to answer his calls or texts.

“Well, you could come back, if you want, you’ll always be welcome at Red Bull.”

“If you miss me, you can just say that,” you teased and he sat up.

He combed a hand through his damp hair and you bit your lip remembering how it felt to be the one doing that. “I do miss you,” he admitted seriously. “That’s why I’m coming back first thing Monday morning - I owe you breakfast.”

“You know there are no cafes open?”

Max smirked and the sight made your heart skip a beat. “Who said anything about a cafe?”

You wanted to know what his plans were but there was a knock at his door and Daniel’s voice reached you through the phone. Max was tempted to let Daniel continue pounding on the door but you both knew he wouldn’t leave quietly and Max groaned at that truth. “Go answer that, I’ll call you in the morning.”

Max dragged his feet as he padded across the room. “I would rather talk to you.”

“Me too.”

“Finish the phone sex already, you pervs,” Daniel shouted through the door before Max ripped it open.

“Oh, oh, yes, Max, don’t stop,” you called out, turning Max’s ears pink as he rushed to turn the phone around and show Daniel the screen and just how fully clothed you were. “Sorry to disappoint you, Danny, no phone sex - this time.”

It was only when Daniel bent over laughing that you saw he wasn’t alone. Charles was out in the hallway with Carlos and Lando, his eyes falling to the carpet when you noticed him.

“We’re getting dinner, you wanna come?” Daniel asked, and thankfully the phone rotated back to Max who looked a little torn at the offer.

“He does,” you answered for him before he could decline just to talk with you a little while longer.

“I’ll call you in the morning, schat.”

“Okay, have fun.”

Charles found nothing to celebrate when the race ended so he made his way home before the rest of the crew even realised it. He thought his weekend couldn’t get any worse after he DNF’d. The only silver lining was that despite his better qualifying, Max had also failed to finish the race. But he still won where it really mattered when it came to you.

Charles pulled into the apartment complex and saw a new sleek black Mercedes AMG parked in one of his many reserved spaces and hope fluttered in his chest. He grabbed his suitcase and darted up the stairwell to his apartment, nearly snapping the key in his haste to unlock the door. That hope turned to ash when he found it eerily silent and every inch of the place perfectly tidy. It was unlived.

The artwork you had purchased still hung on the walls and the shaggy rug he had made love to you on still covered the floor, but the spirit of it all was gone. The colours of the paintings were drained and the temperature controlled air was no longer comfortable. He didn’t even need to go to your room and check, he knew you were gone.

He knew you were gone the moment he saw you on the video call to Max. He had gone with his mother to her new house enough times to know what it looked like, even if it appeared that a rainbow vomited all over the walls. The truth just hadn’t really settled in until he stepped across the threshold and into the house that was once a home.

You had tidied the place as if you were cleaning a crime scene and needed to scrub away all evidence of being there except you couldn’t get it all. You still remained in the pantry cupboards where everything was labelled in your handwriting. You still remained in the linen closet where you folded the sheets and the towels into perfect rectangles. You still remained in the scented candles that sat on the centrepiece of the table.

Charles’ eyes stung as they lingered on the table where the keys to the apartment and the Mercedes sat, right next to his credit card and the picture you kept in your wallet.

Kicking the door closed, he abandoned his suitcase and rushed down the hall. His heart hammered knowing what he would find but he had to check as he pushed open your bedroom door. No, it wasn’t your bedroom anymore, it was a guest room.

The feminine floral duvet his mother had chosen was gone, replaced with a plain white coverlet, and the windows were latched slightly open so whatever scent of yours he may have been able to save had already been cast away to the breeze.

“Fuck!” he screamed as he punched his fist into the mattress. “Fuuuuucckk!!!”

Max must have left before Pierre had finished partying after his shock win. It wasn’t even morning really as the sun was still cresting over the hills, and it was far earlier than you were expecting him. You thought perhaps you were dreaming when you woke to a knock and opened the door to find Max on your front steps.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” you asked as you pulled him inside and inspected the bags under his eyes.

“I’m better now,” he said as he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your hair. “I told you I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you murmured into his chest before pulling away so you could look into his eyes. “You need to sleep.”

“I’ll be fine, I have plans first.”

“Your plans can wait.” You took his hand and led him through the house to your room that overlooked the mariner. Your blankets were still warm as you nestled under the covers and patted the empty space beside you. “You’re not going to be comfortable in jeans.”

“Five minutes and you’re already trying to get me naked,” he teased as he pulled his shirt over his head before he unbuttoned his jeans.

“I never said naked,” you pointed out. The air froze in your lungs as he pushed them down his muscular thighs and you swallowed at the sight before.

“I’m not wearing boxers.”

“No, you certainly are not.” Your tongue rolled across your lips as you drank in every inch of him, the idea of sleep quickly departing your mind. Almost everything departed your mind, except want. “I think I am overdressed.”

“You make a habit of that.”

“I do, don’t I. Maybe you should come help me fix that.”

Max didn’t need to be told twice, he had been waiting for this moment since he had the memory of how your body felt against his. He pulled the covers back and knelt between your legs, his hands roaming up your body and under the baggy shirt of a band he didn’t know. The morning air was cool on your skin as you lifted your arms and he discarded the shirt over the side of the bed.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured as he traced his lips over your racing pulse. A fiery trail of goosebumps remained where his kiss had been and he made his way to your lips before stealing the very breath from your lungs.

Your own hands went roaming, feeling his muscles tense beneath your touch until you reached his proud erection. He shuddered above you and moaned into your mouth before he pulled back. “I need you,” you begged, unabashedly. “Please, Max.”

His hands reached for your panties and the lace tickled as he dragged them down your legs. Even with your begging, he didn’t immediately bury himself in you. He took his time, settling back between your legs. He gently massaged your inner thighs with his strong hands, his thumbs dancing teasingly close to your core until a strangled whine escaped you.

“Relax, schat,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of you.”

He shifted onto his stomach and dipped his head to your core. You lost the ability to think as he gripped your hips and tugged you right onto his open mouth. A wordless cry filled the room and it took a second to understand it was coming from you as you lost yourself in the pleasure Max was giving you. You knew Max had an internal drive to succeed at everything he did and this was no different. He was determined to taste you completely and drive you into oblivion with his tongue and his fingers before he thoroughly fucked you.

Max looked wild and untamed as you came undone around his fingers and he savoured the taste of you on his tongue as he rose above you. His eyes were dark and his lips swollen, his chin was damp and his smile satisfied.

“Hi,” he chuckled with amusement. “Feeling alright?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, because correlating a conscious thought into words seemed impossible as your body still trembled with aftershocks.

“Would you like a break?”

You reached between your bodies and wrapped your hand around his cock, guiding him closer to your entrance. “No, I want you, Max.”

“Completely sober, right?” he confirmed as the head pressed to your wet core.

“Not quite,” you teased, his brows pinching together at the words, “I’m drunk on you.”

The relief in his eyes was palpable and you cradled his face in your palm as you wrapped your legs around his hips. Your bodies united torturously slowly and your eyes fluttered at the fullness when every delicious inch was seated inside, your lips parting with a heady sigh.

“Open your eyes, schat.”

You obeyed in an instant, watching him watch you before his eyes drifted down your bodies. His lip was pinched between his teeth and he groaned at the sight of your pussy taking him so well, something he made sure to tell you.

“Fuck,” you choked as his words made your cunt clench in response, each thrust burying him deep in your cunt until stars dotted your vision and you were tipped over the edge into another orgasm. “Fuuuckk…”

Six months later. “Babe, have you seen my shoes?” Your voice carried throughout the large penthouse apartment you had moved into with Max when the season ended.

“Here, with your dress,” he called out from the living room.

You followed his voice and found the luggage being neatly stacked by the door. He pointed to the two garment bags hanging from the coat rack and at the bottom of the longer one were your heels, next to his polished dress shoes.

“I packed your coat too,” Max said, kissing your temple as he passed to get the car keys.

With the COVID restrictions being lifted Pascale hadn’t wanted to wait a minute longer for the wedding, so winter nuptials in February was the go. At least they were taking place in Sicily so it would be a little warmer, but of course Max would think to pack a coat for when the temperatures dropped at night. He was always thoughtful like that.

“Did you want a coffee?” you asked as you turned on the machine and put your travel mug under it. It was only a three hour flight on Max’s private jet, but you hadn’t slept well with the knowledge you would see Charles for the first time since Christmas.

Cordial is how you would describe that relationship. The familiarity and intimacy was gone, replaced with standoffish politeness. You were both trying to find where the line could be drawn on a platonic friendship that had the history of more and it was slow going. You didn’t want anything you said or did around him to be misconstrued.

Max made you happy, and just as importantly, Max was healthy for you. You did sometimes wonder if he tried harder to be better because he had witnessed toxic relationships growing up. He knew how that toxicity could poison and break someone so there was a conscious effort in the way he spoke and acted to everyone around him. Even Charles.

That was why he had offered his plane for everyone to use, including Charles and Charlotte. For better or for worse, Charles was going to be a part of your family in less than 24 hours and Max respected that. Like he said, he didn’t care about your past and your future was one with him.

“Schatje,” Max called, one hand on your waist, the other reaching past you to the overflowing mug in the coffee machine. “Everything alright?”

You came back to the present with a few blinks and turned in his arms, surprising him with a deep kiss as you fisted his shirt and pulled him closer. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulled back to see your face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you said with a shake of your head but he saw right through it. “Everything you’ve done for me…a simple ‘I love you’ just doesn’t seem enough. I can never say it enough.”

Max’s hands cradled your jaw and he dipped his head to indulge in a slow but thorough kiss that had your stomach clenching with a fresh wave of desire. When he pulled back this time he smiled as he found the clear want and need for him written on your face. “It’s enough for me.”

He turned the machine off and poured the ruined coffee down the sink. “I’ll get you a proper coffee on the way to the airport. We should get going, can’t have the best woman be late for the rehearsal.”

“I think dad settled on the term groomsmaid,” you corrected with a laugh. You had nearly cried when he asked you to be his best man, before accepting the honour. It was fitting considering the bridesmaids were Pascale’s sons. “It’s not too late if you want to be a flower girl?”

He grinned and his eyes flicked to the door where the dress you had paraded for him last night hung. “I’m quite happy to sit back and watch.”

“If I recall, you didn’t sit still for long. I hope you have more self restraint for the ceremony.”

“For the ceremony, yes. But as soon as we hit the hotel room you’re mine and that dress will be on the floor, I promise you.”

You bit your lip at the promise, knowing he would keep it just like every other one he had made.

“We should probably go before I do something that makes us very late,” Max groaned, stepping away from your tempting body.

“Ugh, fine.”

The ceremony was more than just a wedding and it represented the joining of the Leclerc’s and the Y/LN’s, something that had surprised you and also made you grateful for having waterproof mascara. You didn’t dare look at Charles when the celebrant spoke about the union of the two families, but Arthur grinned and Enzo winked, your father narrowed his eyes and you laughed.

The celebrant, thankfully, didn’t understand.

The cashmere coat Max had packed hung over the bag of your chair as night fell and you danced with him under the open stars. The only light came from the fairy lights strung around the stone pillars that had survived centuries on the island. His arms kept you warm as you swayed to the music and you spoke quietly to each other in a world of your own.

“Hey, can I, uh, can I cut in?” Charles asked hesitantly.

You took a deep breath as you debated the question, your eyes glancing around and quickly finding Charlotte at a table with Arthur and his girlfriend. You looked at Max to see if it was okay. He just smiled and kissed your cheek, whispering, “I’ll get us a drink.”

Charles waited until Max had made it off the dance floor before offering his hand, the other coming to rest on your waist. The first step was tentative, like he wasn’t sure you were actually going to follow his lead. “You look happy,” he said after a few more steps.

“I am.”

He nodded to himself, looking at Charlotte. “Good. That’s good.”

He looked miserable. “I hope you find real happiness one day.” You were being honest.

“I had it.” And he was being honest too. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I ever really apologised, not properly.”

“It’s fine, if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have met Max.”

“It was meant to be us, though, right?” His eyes were begging you to agree with him but you had spent sleepless nights poring over the very same question.

“I think our paths crossed to make sure our parents met,” you admitted, smiling at the newlyweds as they danced too. You had never seen your dad happier.

“You really believe that?”

The song came to an end and you found Max returning from the bar with two drinks in his hand. “I have to,” you said as you slipped out of Charles’ arms. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step away from him.

“Why?” He took a step closer, only stopping when you took another step back and held up your hand. “Why?”

You took a calming breath and steadied your voice. “Because the alternative would only break my heart again.”

#max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #max verstappen smut #f1 smut

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hollywoodfamerp · 25 days

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Hollywood Fame is heading to the most magical place on earth!

Pack your bags for Walt Disney World, a place where dreams come true and a little pixie dust goes a long way! We will be staying at Disney's Animal Kingdom Lodge, which features exotic animals, dazzling pools, award-winning dining, and more. Who knows? You may even meet a new friend right outside your window! Under the cut, you will find the roommates list for the trip. The roommates were arranged by a RANDOM generator. Unless we got a message from you telling us you wanted to be with a specific person or your FC was listed on the ships list, you were included in the generator. As we get more people into the roleplay, we will update the list. If you do not see your characters name on this list, please message us POLITELY and let us know! Mistakes happen, and the generator isn't perfect. Hopefully, everyone is accounted for - if not, we’ll fix it! As stated before, as we accept new apps before AND during the event, this list will be updated. This is also applicable if FCs are unfollowed/leave the group, so please understand that this list is subject to change. So, that being said - please LIKE THIS POST so you can not only keep track of this list but also so we know you saw this notice.

Akanishi Jin and Lee Sunmi

Ana de Armas and Louis Tomlinson

Andrew Garfield and Lily James

Anne Hathaway and Jade Thirlwall

Ariana DeBose and Ariana Grande

Awsten Knight and Miley Cyrus

Bella Hadid and Thomas Doherty

Billie Lourd and Dylan O'Brien

Cari Fletcher and Victoria de Angelis

Cha Eunwoo and Choi Soobin

Chloe Bailey and Gareth Southgate

Choi Minho and Kim Ahyoung (Yura)

Chris Evans and Naomi Scott

Colby Lopez (Seth Rollins) and Rebecca Quin (Becky Lynch)

Dakota Johnson and Sam Heughan

Danielle Campbell and Joe Burrow

Danny Amendola and Olivia Culpo

David Tennant and Harry Kane

Demi Bennett (Rhea Ripley) and Ashley Fliehr (Charlotte Flair)

Dove Cameron and Aaron Tveit

Dua Lipa and Joseph Quinn

Emilia Clarke and Park Seonghwa

Emily Blunt and John Krasinski

Emma D’Arcy and Hailee Steinfeld

Erin Moriarty and Fryea Allan

Ethan Torchio and Damiano David

Florence Pugh and Cillian Murphy

Georgia Tennant and Jason Sudeikis

Glen Powell and Meryl Streep

Hailey Baldwin and Luke Hemmings

Harry Styles and Ashton Irwin

Hwang Hyunjin and Bang Chan

Jackson Wang and Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (Ten)

Jamie Campbell Bower and Tate McRae

Jenna Ortega and Halle Bailey

Jeon Jungkook and Choi San

Jessica Chastain and Claudia Jessie

Jonathan Bailey and Simone Ashley

Jordyn Woods and Bae Joohyun (Irene)

Josephine Skriver and Aaron Taylor-Johnson

Josh O'Connor and Troye Sivan

Joshua Hong (Hong Jisoo) and Olivia O'Brien

Jung Wooyoung and Brittany Baker (Britt Baker)

Jung Yoonoh (Jaehyun) and Lee Taeyong

Kang Seulgi and Byn Baekhyun

Kelsea Ballerini and Joe Keery

Kim Hongjoong and Diamanté Quiava Valentin Harper (Saweetie)

Kim Jisoo and Christian Yu

Kim Mingyu and Sana Minatozaki

Kim Taehyung and Chou Tzuyu

Kit Connor and Michael Evans Behling

Kylie Jenner and Billie Eilish

Lauren Jauregui and Bill Skarsgard

Lee Jeno and Na Jaemin

Lee Know (Minho) and Lee Felix

Lee Taemin and Kim Jongin

Leigh-Anne Pinnock and Emma Stone

Lucas Wong and Kim Jungwoo

Lupita Nyong'o and Tessa Thompson

Madelyn Cline and Anya Taylor-Joy

Maia Mitchell and Alycia Debnam-Carey

Maika Monroe and Sydney Sweeney

Mark Lee and Lee Donghyuck (Haechan)

Matt Smith and Jonathan Good (Jon Moxley)

Maxence Danet-Fauvel and Hunter Schafer

Mazz Murray and Jang Gyuri

Min Yoongi and Kim Namjoon

Nicholas Galitzine and Taylor Zakhar Perez

Nick Robinson and Jake Gyllenhaal

Nicola Coughlan and Liam Hemsworth

Olivia Cooke and Austin Butler

Olivia Rodrigo and Isabela Merced

Pamela Martinez (Bayley) and Mercedes Justine Varnado (Sasha

Banks)

Pedro Pascal and Kendall Jenner

Renee Paquette (Renee Young) and Niall Horan

Renee Rapp and Barbara Palvin

Robyn (Rihanna) Fenty and Drew Starkey

Romee Strijd and Elizabeth Lail

Ryan Gosling and Gigi Hadid

Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively

Sabrina Carpenter and Hannah Waddingham

Sam Claflin and Chris Pine

Samantha Gibb and Megan Jovon Ruth Pete (Megan Thee Stallion)

Saoirse Ronan and Jack Lowden

Sebastian Stan and Margot Robbie

Selena Gomez and Nick Jonas

Shawn Mendes and Jeon Wonwoo

Sophie Turner and Logan Lerman

Taylor York and Hayley Williams

Tom Hardy and Perrie Edwards

Tom Holland and Natalia Dyer

Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift

Troian Bellisario and Lucy Hale

Vanessa Hudgens and Zac Efron

Vanessa Merrell and Solana Rowe (SZA)

Veronica Merrell and Rylee Arnold

Walton Goggins and Ella Purnell

Wong Kunhang and Mason Mount

Xiao Dejun (Xiaojun) and Yoo Jimin (Karina)

Xu Minghao and Jennie Kim

Yoo Siah (Yooa) and Kim Minjeong (Winter)

Zendaya Coleman and Paul Mescal

Zoë Kravitz and Lili Reinhart

#hollywoodfameevent

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freshouththeslammer · 23 days

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hey! 🩵

about me →

𝜗𝜚 she/her

𝜗𝜚 june baby

𝜗𝜚 big three - cancer sun, leo rising and aquarius moon

𝜗𝜚 slavic (macedonian)

𝜗𝜚 american moved to aus (melb)

𝜗𝜚 minor

𝜗𝜚 obsessive playlist maker

𝜗𝜚 y2k coquette (ish) girly

𝜗𝜚 pinterest whore

𝜗𝜚 older sister

𝜗𝜚 delulu and hopeless romantic

𝜗𝜚 future f1 and football wag

𝜗𝜚 side book blog

just me ranting about life - this is a safe space for anyone and everyone ! 🩵

fandoms →

music → taylor swift, tate mcrae, olivia rodrigo, lana del rey, sabrina carpenter, arctic monkeys, twenty one pilots, chase atlantic, kacey musgraves

books → charlotte holmes series, inheritance games, murder most unladylike, to all of the boys i've loved before, agatha christie in general, a good girl's guide to murder, love on the brain, you and me on vacation, this time it's real, the american roommate experiment

right now →

reading → the man in the brown suit by agatha christie and highly suspicious and unfairly cute by talia hibbert

listening → oh i still dream of him

watching → midsomer murders, the real housewives of salt lake city

#girlhood #girlblogging #taylor swift #hell is a teenage girl #taylornation #ttpd #coquette #the eras tour #lana del rey #gaslight gatekeep girlboss

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smilingformoney · 6 months

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Rickmas 2023: Day 7. Stormy Reunion | David/Charley (OC)

Read now on Ao3 or below the cut:

Charley Tate could literally be under the water in a bathtub and she’d probably be drier than she was right now. Hell, at least she’d be naked and warm, unlike now, with her soaking wet clothes clinging to her skin and the below freezing temperature turning her nose, fingers and probably her toes bright red. That was if she even had any toes left - she couldn’t feel her feet at all, so they may well have fallen off and she’d not have noticed.

She’d been waiting on the street corner for a taxi for the last twenty minutes, but no empty cars passed her by. She shivered, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and wondered if it might be better to go back into the train station and wait there until morning.

A car approached, and she peered hopefully through the rain in the hopes it was a taxi, but it was just a police car. Maybe she could get herself arrested - a night in a prison cell might be slightly preferable to freezing to death on the street corner.

The police car slowed down, and she thought for a moment she was going to be arrested - surely the cop didn’t think she was soliciting herself in this weather, did he?

With all the rain on the windows, she couldn’t see through, so she had only to wait for the window to slowly roll down to see her visitor.

“Can I help you, Officer?” Charley asked as politely as she could when she had to shout to be heard over the rain.

“Charley?” came the reply, a deep, baritone voice she hadn’t heard in years, but she recognised it straight away. She bent down slightly to peer into the car.

“David Friedman? Is that you?”

“Yeah it’s me, the real question is what the hell are you doin’ back in New Orleans and why are you tryna catch your death?”

“Can I answer those questions in the back of your car? Preferably with the heating on full blast?”

David sighed, but he gestured to the passenger door. “Get in the front. I ain’t arresting ya.”

“Thanks, Dave!”

Charley hurried around to the other side of the car and climbed in, sighing with relief when the warmth of the heating hit her face.

“Damn, Charley, you’re soaked. Good thing I found ya. Here.”

David shrugged his jacket off and handed it to her. She wanted to tell him not to bother getting his jacket wet for her, but she was far too cold to worry about manners now.

“Oh my god, Dave, you are my saviour,” Charley groaned with relief, slumping back in the seat. “I owe you big time. A new jacket, for one.”

“Yeah, well, don’t take this for granted. I’m a cop, not a taxi driver. Where to? Your folks’ place?”

“Naw, they downsized soon as I left. No room for li’l Charlotte anymore. I’m stayin’ at the Empress.”

“You’re what?! Hell naw. If you managed to get there without dyin’ of pneumonia, you’d die from some infection or another from that place. If you ain’t got no place to stay, you’re stayin’ with me.”

Charley’s heart did a somersault, and she tried to ignore it. She hadn’t seen David in three years, and she’d done her mighty best to forget him in that time. So of course, as soon as she came back to New Orleans, he was the first fucker she ran into.

“You don’t have to do that, Dave. I can handle the hotel –”

“It’s my place or the precinct, doll. I ain’t leavin’ you there and gettin’ up tomorrow to see your obit splashed across the front page.”

“Aww, I knew you still cared!”

“Naw, I just ain’t bothered with the paperwork.”

She glanced over at him, and although he was trying to act cool, she could see the twitch of a smile on his face even as he peered through the rain to head towards his place.

“So you gonna tell me what you’re doin’ in New Orleans, Charley? Last I heard you were off to New York to make it big.”

Charley shrugged, wrapping David’s jacket around her shoulders a little tighter, and she couldn’t help noticing he still wore the same oaky aftershave he’d always worn.

“Didn’t make it. Clearly. Sold everything I had just to get a ticket home.”

“Wait - everything? You ain’t even got a bag on you, Charley.”

“I got a wallet! Not that there’s much in there. Just enough to keep me in the hotel for, like, a month.”

“Well, you ain’t steppin’ foot in that hotel, so you can use that cash to buy yourself some damn clothes for one.”

“I gotta stay somewhere, Dave –”

“Yeah, my place.”

“What? No! I’ll take ya up on it tonight, Dave, but I can’t stay.”

David waved his hand at her dismissively. “Shut the fuck up, Charley. You stayed enough times before.”

“Yeah, but that was… different.”

David glanced at her, then turned his eyes back to the road.

“Don’t have to be,” he muttered.

Charley frowned. “What?”

“I said, it don’t have to be,” David repeated, clearly agitated at having to repeat himself. “Different, I mean.”

Charley sat up in her seat slightly, looking at him curiously. “What makes you think I want it to be the same? Maybe I got me a boyfriend back in New York.”

David scoffed. “Oh yeah? Then why ain’t you stayin’ with him?”

She didn’t answer, and chose to stare out the rain-soaked window instead. She could just make out the illuminated store signs as they went by, and she recognised every single one of them. New Orleans had hardly changed in the three years since she’d left. Hell, even David hadn’t changed.

“Charley, I’m serious about stayin’ with me long as you need to,” David said, breaking the silence. “It don’t have to be the same if you don’t want it. I’m sure us southern country bumpkins don’t stand up to the fancy folks in New York –”

“I tried to date,” she said, interrupting him. She looked over at him again, admiring the gorgeous profile of the man she’d said goodbye to three years ago. “But I never liked them fancy folks, Dave. I suppose my type is more… rugged.”

David glanced at her, and for a moment their eyes met before he turned his attention back to the road, but she saw enough of the old familiar fire in his eyes to know her old flame still wanted her.

“I gotta get gas,” David muttered as a gas station came up ahead.

“How’s Jess?”

“Fuckin’ big. Comes up to my waist now.”

“She still with her mom?”

“You askin’ if I got back with my cheating wife, Charley?”

“Just askin’. I know it was hairy when I left.”

“Yeah, she’s with her mom. I get her on weekends, though. ‘Specially now that Matty’s in jail.”

“Matty’s what?”

David smirked at her as he pulled into the gas station. “Oh, yeah. He was involved in all sortsa shady shit. Colluded with Senator Hornbeck an’ everything. I’ll tell ya all about it - after I get gas.”

“Aw, Dave, ya can’t leave me hangin’ like that!” Charley whined, getting out of the car with him in hopes of hearing the story sooner. “What’d they do?”

“Later, Charley,” David insisted, nodding subtly to another man who was pumping his gas within earshot.

Charley huffed and leaned against the car, hugging David’s jacket closer around her as he started filling the gas tank.

“I always knew Matty was up to no good,” she said. “Past just stealin’ your wife.”

“Yeah, thanks for remindin’ me,” David replied.

“Aw, c’mon now. If he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have had a brief but passionate love affair with a cute bar singer, now, would ya?”

She grinned at him flirtatiously, and he rolled his eyes, which she knew meant she was charming him.

“Wait here,” David told her, tossing her the keys after finishing up. “Don’t go drivin’ off in that.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Detective.”

Charley paced around a little, trying to keep warm as she waited for David to come out of the shop where he was paying. When he returned, he was carrying a coat.

“Here,” he said, handing it to her. “You’re still shiverin’.”

“Dave! You didn’t have to do that –”

“I ain’t letting you freeze to death before I even get you home, doll.”

She looked at him, a smirk on her lips. “No? What you plannin’ for when you get me home, then, Dave?”

“Somethin’ like this.”

He closed the gap between them, pushing her up against the car, and her previously cold lips lit up with a fiery passion as David kissed her, just as greedily as she remembered. Christ, she’d missed this. Missed his lips on hers, the way his strong arms wrapped around her much smaller frame, and trapping her against the car just made her feel smaller, more trapped, and a hell of a lot more aroused.

A car horn honked, and David pulled away, panting, desire burning hot in his eyes.

“How much further to yours?” Charley asked, similarly out of breath.

“Half an hour.”

“Fuck that. Find a layby and take me in the back, Dave, just like old times.”

“Ohh, I fuckin’ want to,” David growled, his hands wrapped around her waist, ignoring the continued honks from the car behind. “But you’re still soaked, doll, and not in the good way. I won’t rest easy ‘til I get you somewhere with central heating. Then I’ll make you scream ‘til you’re beggin’ me to stop.”

“Then get to drivin’, mister.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

***

When they arrived at David’s place half an hour later, Charley was a lot warmer and drier, but when she got out of the car she still left a considerable wet patch behind. Her arousal had died down a little as they talked for the rest of the journey and David filled her in on how Matty Grimes had landed himself in jail, but it didn’t take long to reignite it when she entered the familiar house, which hadn’t changed much in three years, and David hoisted her over his shoulder, making her squeal in surprise.

“David Friedman, you put me down!” Charley demanded, but he only laughed.

“I will, doll, I will.”

He climbed the stairs with her over his shoulder, and she knew exactly where he was taking her. Sure enough, he turned into his bedroom and put her back down on her feet as he pushed the door closed with his foot.

“Them clothes are awful wet, doll. Better get ‘em off quick.”

Charley did her best to peel off her t-shirt, but it really was stuck to her, so David helped her and with much laughter and fumbling the two of them managed to get her wet clothes off and tossed aside, leaving her standing naked but for her bra and panties, while he was still fully dressed.

“Gonna arrest me for indecent exposure, Detective?” Charley teased, fingers dancing along his tie before tugging at the knot to loosen it. “Or are you gonna join me?”

“I’m not in the shape I was when you left,” David warned her as he pulled his tie over his head before starting working on the buttons of his shirt. “Three years of post-divorce depression’s not great for the gut. Plus I’m an old man, Charley, it’s hard to stay in shape.”

“You think I fuckin’ care if you put on a few pounds, Dave? I think I made it pretty obvious I think you’re fuckin’ hot. And you ain’t that old.”

“I’m fifty-three. You’re, what? Twenty-somethin’?”

Charley shrugged and unbuckled his belt for him. “An’ I was twenty-somethin’ last time, too, that didn’t stop ya.”

She went to pull his pants down, but David grabbed her wrist, forcing her to look him in the eye.

“Three years ago I was drowning my sorrows in drink every night at Banana Joe’s ‘cus my wife was divorcin’ me to get with my old partner. I see some pretty li’l thing singin’ with a band up there and she starts flirtin’ with me after. ‘Course I’m gonna take her home. My fragile ego needed the boost. But you were right to leave, Charley. I ain’t boyfriend material. Clearly, I ain’t even husband material. You had your dreams and you followed ‘em, and I’m sorry they let you down. Now, I fuckin’ missed you, and if you want me to, I will stick my cock in every damn hole you got ‘cus I am still a sad, lonely old drunk who’s no good for nobody. But if you think you’re gettin’ some boyfriend outta this, then I’m sorry to disappoint, doll. ‘Cus I ain’t lookin’ for no girlfriend.”

“Are you done?”

“Excuse me?”

“I said, are you done? Or are you gonna tell me more ‘bout how you don’t love me and you just want a good fuck? ‘Cus I didn’t come back for you, David Friedman. I didn’t even wanna come back. But I had nowhere else to go. Now, you wanna offer me a warm bed and a good fuck while I find my feet in this town? Fine. But I ain’t looking for no boyfriend neither, Dave. I’ve had a hell of a week, and fucking you might well make it all worth it. Now, are you gonna remind me what your cock tastes like or not?”

David grinned hungrily and released her wrist from his grip.

“By all means, doll. I’m all yours.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but she sunk to her knees and pulled his pants down as she went. Charley moaned hungrily when his erect cock popped out of his boxers, just as big as she remembered it.

“See, now they ain’t got cocks like this in New York,” she teased as she took the base of his shaft in her hand and held it still while she licked around his tip, teasing out the precum. “All that shoutin’ and runnin’ about - they’re compensatin’ for somethin’. But you ain’t got nothin’ to compensate for, do ya, boo?”

“Awful lot of talking and not a lot of cocksucking down there,” David replied, and she grinned mischievously.

“Sorry, Daddy.”

She opened her mouth and let him in, and they both groaned as his shaft pushed past her lips and towards the back of her throat.

“Mmm, that’s it… only wanna hear you suckin’. Get a real good taste of it, Charl. Mhm… ah, fuck. Just what I needed after a - ah! - long day…”

His hand tangled itself in her hair as she bobbed back and forth, relieved to finally taste him on her tongue again. She didn’t care that he was a good thirty years her senior, or that he was a cop, or that he was the grumpiest man in existence. She didn’t wanna date him, after all. She just wanted to suck his cock, to fuck him and be fucked him by him, to feel his stubble rubbing against her thighs as he ate her out.

Sure, in the short time they’d spent together, they didn’t spend every moment fucking. Sometimes they ate, or showered, or watched TV. Sometimes they even talked, and she even found she liked talking to him. But he was in the middle of a messy divorce, and she didn’t wanna touch that with a bargepole, especially since she was still fucked up from a cheating ex.

Now, that was three years ago, and she was over that scumbag. She hoped David was over his ex too, but she supposed it was harder for him because he had to co-parent with her. Still, he must need a stress relief. An eager young thing desperate to make him feel good, because she’s just as fucked up as he is and approval from him makes up for all the ways she’s fucked up her own life.

And approval was definitely what she was getting right now, if David’s moans were anything to go by. He always had been a very vocal man. Whether muttering dirty things in her ear at the bar or grunting as he fucked her into his bed, David Friedman certainly made his feelings known.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum all down that throat of yours,” David groaned, his hand now holding her head in place as he fucked her mouth desperately. “Ugh - oh - fucking hell, Charl… fuck!”

His hips snapped forward and stilled, his cock stuffed as far down her throat as it could go, and she could only moan as she felt him fill her up with his hot cum, trickling down her throat just where it belonged. It must have been a while since he last jacked off because he shot a good load down there, and she made sure to breathe through her nose as he did.

She whined a little when he pulled out, and David just laughed at her as she instinctively followed him.

“Christ, I fuckin’ needed that,” he said with a sigh of relief, his head lolling back slightly as he caught his breath.

Charley, meanwhile, was eagerly lapping up what he’d left on her lips, and he laughed when he looked down at her.

“Thirsty li’l thing, huh? Don’t worry, darlin’. I ain’t that old - I got another round in me. But first, get your ass on that bed. Reckon it’s my turn to remind myself what you taste like.”

Why on earth had she ever left for New York, she asked herself half an hour later when she was wrapped up in David’s arms, both sweaty and out of breath, laughing at the ridiculousness of the fact she’d hardly been back two hours and had already found herself in his bed.

“Welcome back to New Orleans, Charl,” David said as he pulled you in tighter. “You better be fuckin’ stayin’ this time.”

“Oh, I ain’t goin’ nowhere, David Friedman.”

“Good.” David kissed the top of her head, a lot more gently than she’d expected.

“Is it?”

“What?”

“Good?”

“‘Course it fuckin’ is.”

“Alright. ‘Cus I gotta be honest, Dave, I couldn’t get you off my damn mind. I sure as hell didn’t come back for ya, but I sure hoped I’d run into ya. Didn’t expect it to be so soon, mind.”

“‘M glad it was,” David mumbled sleepily. “Missed you.”

His eyes were closed, so he didn’t see her smiling coyly.

“Missed you too, Dave.”

But he was already asleep.

#rickmas2023 #Judas Kiss 1998 #Alan Rickman #David Friedman #Friedman x OC #this one was so fun to write!#he’s so grumpy I love him #also shout out to Snow for being my Louisiana consultant #also not me trying to resist starting yet another long fic when I have three on the go

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